


quiet when i'm coming home

by Tuesdayschildd



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 3x01, Baby, Comforting, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Fanfic of Fanfic, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene, Parenthood, Pool Party, Varchie!Centric, better yet, cheronica, drabbles in different universes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24720253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tuesdayschildd/pseuds/Tuesdayschildd
Summary: collection of drabbles in honor of the amazing varchie creators
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Cheryl Blossom & Veronica Lodge
Comments: 42
Kudos: 43





	1. but darling you are a river

**Author's Note:**

  * For [veronicacecilialodge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicacecilialodge/gifts), [fandomwolfx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomwolfx/gifts), [monicaposh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicaposh/gifts), [theeternalblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theeternalblue/gifts), [andrewslodge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewslodge/gifts), [lostinlodge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinlodge/gifts).



_. . . . ._

_but darling_

_you are a river._

_the rocks will_

_break you_

_the valleys will bend you._

_but you will never stop_

_because that is what you do._

_you flow._

-Vinati Bhola

_. . . . ._

Veronica picks up another half full plastic cup containing an odorous brown liquid that only a teenager can concoct. Shuttering, she pours it out on the lawn before tossing it in the recycling bag with the other dozens of cups she’s already collected.

“You know I pay someone to clean up.” 

She had heard the tell tale clack of heels on the cement behind her growing louder as the wearer made their way across the patio. She just wasn’t quite ready to face an interrogation as to what she’s still doing here after the party’s long over. 

Turning, Veronica shrugs at Cheryl, who’s still clad in her bikini but now wearing a sheer shawl across her shoulders. Very pool party-chic. “I’m in desperate need of a mindless task.”

“Where’s Archie?” Cheryl cocks an eyebrow, but her face looks solemn enough that Veronica doesn’t think she’s making a joke.

“He and Reggie are returning the kegs. I told him to come back to pick me up when they’re done.” 

Veronica had needed something mundane to focus on for a little while. The party had been good enough of an interruption to the endless daily loop of _caffeine/try to prove Archie’s innocence/cry herself to sleep/repeat_ — but as people had started to leave, she felt herself sinking a bit further into the bottomless worry plaguing her all summer. 

When she's with Archie, she has a constant need to be touching him. His hands, his face, his hair. She just wants to bury herself in his arms and never come back out for air.

When she isn’t with him, she keeps picturing her father’s face as Archie was led out of the gym in handcuffs, and her hands ball up into tight fists of nonproductive rage that take hours to climb out of.

Helping to pick up the remains of Cheryl’s pool party seems like a good distraction for a little while. 

Plus, if she has to sit in the back of Reggie’s Chevrolet Chevelle and hear the boys call each other _bro_ one more time again today, she may lose it.

“Might I suggest a distraction other than manual labor?” Cheryl takes the garbage bag out of Veronica’s hands and places it down on the sidewalk. Curling her pale arm around Veronica’s elbow, she steers them towards the house. “Toni is whipping up a little after-party Kombucha cleanse. Come partake.”

Veronica pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand when the sudden urge to cry hits her as they pass the cabana. Daytime tears have been showing up more frequently now as the summer days draw shorter. 

Cheryl stops walking, waiting for a beat before speaking. “I wish I could help in some way,” she says softly, pulling her arm out from Veronica’s elbow and instead draping it comfortingly across her shoulders. “If you need anything at all, Toni and I are here for you.”

Veronica daps the back of her finger on her bottom lids to keep the moisture from destroying her mascara. She wipes off the black splotches on her swimsuit. “Thank you.”

There’s nothing more to say. There’s nothing left for anyone to do anymore but see how the cards are dealt at the trial. 

“I have a secret weapon sure to ease all ailments large and small. Just give me three winks time and I’ll have a piping hot maple mocha latte ready to lighten that load a trice.”

Veronica smiles at the flourished offer and nods. Resting her head on the hostess’s shoulder, she allows Cheryl to guide them inside, holding onto her waist for support. Despite their on again off again _enemies to friends to frenemies_ , Cheryl’s presence is a constant in Veronica’s life. And she needs to hold fast to the support of these pillars standing strong next to her. 

She’s equal parts grateful for Cheryl’s friendship and concerned about having to pretend to enjoy a _maple mocha latte._

Either way, it’s a much better distraction than collecting red solo cups. She’ll take it. 

_. . . . ._

for becca xx


	2. the first stab of love

# 

_the first stab of love is like a sunset_

_a blaze of color_

_oranges, pearly pinks_

_vibrant purples_

_-Anna Godbersen_

_. . . . ._

  
A tiny bit of the sunset is still visible from the window of the nursery at this late hour in the summer, and Veronica is reminded of the times she spent in this very spot, cuddled up in Archie’s arms in his double bed when it used to be his room — when his mom or dad slept down the hall and they were trying to be quiet, sneaking around after dark when the porch lights were on and fireflies were out. Back when they were just kids themselves. Kids with adult sized problems. 

Now she rocks gently back and forth in a rocking chair looking at the same view, aged a few years, with their child sleeping soundly in her arms. No more murders or mysteries to speak of. They’re aged far beyond their years, but still learning how to be adults, one day at a time.

She hears the creek of the staircase as Archie takes the last few steps up and his head comes into view through the open door.For a moment, she sees a bit of his father in his side profile. It makes her smile.

“Did she go down okay?” He whispers as not to wake the baby, walking soundlessly across the room to her. 

“Like an angel.” 

It’s true. Veronica admires the curve of the baby’s upper lip as the child’s lips smack together in her sleep, no doubt dreaming of milk. She’s been the perfect baby during her few short weeks on earth, and it makes Veronica feel silly for being so anxious about motherhood for most of the pregnancy. 

She could have put her in the crib twenty minutes ago after she fell asleep but Veronica greedily wanted to keep her arms around the bundle and stare at her beautiful face a little while longer. She was already growing up too fast.

“Do you think she looks like me at all?” Archie brushes his hand gently across his daughter’s head, against the soft raven hair just starting to curl around her ears. Veronica had been slightly disappointed their daughter didn’t inherit her daddy’s auburn locks, but Archie had been over the moon with his baby girl having her mama’s hair.

“She smiles just like you.” Veronica reassures him, brushing her finger down the baby’s cheek. “Frowns the same way, too.” 

Archie chuckles at the tease, leaning down to kiss Veronica’s forehead. “Are you ready for bed?”

She nods regretfully, letting Archie take the baby from her arms. She watches as he gently places her into the crib, rubbing her belly gently when she starts to fuss for a moment to coax her back to sleep. “Shhh, night-night, Faith. Sweet dreams.”

Together, they watch her settle, a tiny chubby fist curling up under a tiny chin. Squeezing Archie’s hand, Veronica feels her heart begin to overflow.

_. . . . ._

  
  


for libby xx

based on her [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23860135)


	3. ma colombe

_. . . . ._

_in the golden lightning_

_of the sunken sun,_

_o'er which clouds are bright'ning,_

_thou dost float and run;_

_like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun._

-Percy Bysshe Shelley

_. . . . ._

_Glissade, pas de chat, glissade, pas de chat, glissade, grand pas de chat, assemblé, jeté._

Her feet glided effortlessly across the stage. It was a mindless floor combination her body reflexively went to when her brain wanted to shut off. A combination she had probably been running since she was ten.

_Assemblé, jeté, tombe, pas de borrée, glissade, grand jeté._

She ran up stage after her leap, finishing the eight count with a wide sweep before setting up for pirouettes. She completed a clean triple turn before coming down off pointe to start into fouettés.

She spun over and over again, spotting against the red glowing exit sign illuminated in the back of the theater in the dark, faces flashing across her mind with each whip of her leg.

Archie, Nick, Elio…

She wanted to give herself completely to Archie, mind and body. He connected with her soul in such a way that she knew could last forever. He brought a light into her life she didn’t think she’d ever find. But Nick and his past clouded over her, inching closer to pulling her into his darkness forever, forcing her to say goodbye to the only man who had ever made her feel alive.

Her hair, still pinned back from rehearsal earlier, began to escape from its haphazard bun with pieces criss-crossing her vision and clouding the faces in her mind. All the other dancers since departed, she could only hear the breath in her chest and the slight knock of the wood in her shoe against the floor in the empty theater.

“Veronica?”

She startled and lost her balance to come down on both feet as she missed her focal point for spotting. Her eyes searched the dark wings and then the blackness of the theater seats quickly to find the source of the voice. A fear gripped her heart. Andre was likely parked and idling nearby, waiting for her call. Could Nick be back and know she was here in the theater alone?

From stage left she heard the footsteps before a friendly red head appeared on stage, her heart rate beginning to slow in relief.

She clutched a hand to her chest as she met him halfway. “You scared me, Archie.”

He grimaced in apology. “Sorry, but you’ve been doing those turn-y things now for a few minutes and I was afraid your brain was going to turn to scrambled eggs.”

“Turn-y things?” She laughed. “Fouettes.”

“Foo-et-ayes.” He repeated slowly, wiggling his eyebrows and beginning to wrap his arms around her waist.

“I’m all sweaty.” She grabbed his forearms in warning, trying to loosen his grip on her. “Don’t get too close.”

He resisted, pulling her flush against him instead of letting her go. “Sweaty Veronica is my favorite Veronica.”

She held back in rolling her eyes and leaned into his embrace instead. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? I thought you had a late meeting.” She fixed the fold in his collar, slightly askew.

“Reggie got tickets last minute to the Knicks game so we rescheduled. I was hoping you’d let me convince you to go out to dinner.”

“I can be convinced.” She extended her arms up around his neck, her fingers beginning to fiddle with the short hairs at his nape. “ _Try me_.”

He grinned at her teasing, bending down to lift her and then spin them both around. “I guess I need to unscramble your brain then.”

She let her legs extend out straight behind her with the force of the turn, laughing the whole time as Archie grinned.

“How does Kevin make this look so easy?” He came to a stop before getting too dizzy, letting her feet find the floor gently.

His question gave her an idea. “Want to try a lift?” She arched a single eyebrow at him in a dare.

“You think I’m graceful enough for that? I’m flattered.”

She turned so her back was against his chest before grabbing his right arm and placing it around her waist. She took his other hand in hers, directing it around her left thigh from behind. “Pick me up from here with my weight in the crook of your arms.”

“Gladly.” He effortlessly lifted her straight up.

She felt feather light in his arms. She bent her right leg and turned out, bringing her toe to her left knee in passé. “Now tip me down on the right towards the floor.”

She stretched her arms out as he followed her instructions. “Your first fish dive. Not half bad.”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his mouth somewhere behind her head as he spoke, leaning her down more towards the floor.

“Of course.”

She was suddenly jostled as he switched his grip so her weight was on his hands, and he lifted her up above his head. “Oh my god!” She had to compensate a little for his shifty balancing skills, but she was pretty steady in his makeshift lift. She felt secure in his hands.

He turned slowly, showing her off to an empty room high above his head before he caught her oh so gently against his chest and lowered her to stand. “I think I saw Kevin do that once.”

Her hands grasped the side of his face pulling him down for a sweet kiss. Whatever her worries, being with Archie made them seem miles and miles away.

She pulled away after a moment, wiping a smudge of her lipstain off his lips with her thumb. “You're a ballerina’s dream, Archiekins.”

“Did I convince you?” His cheeks reddened a touch as he smirked, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“Of course.” She rested her head against his strong chest, loving the feeling as his arms wrapped up around her in his embrace. “You actually had me at _dinner_. I just wanted to see what you’d do.”

“Anything for you, Ronnie.”

_. . . . ._

for emily based on her [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16979100/chapters/39907761) xx


	4. she walks in beauty

_. . . . ._

_she walks in beauty, like the night_

_of cloudless climes and starry skies;_

_and all that’s best of dark and bright_

_meet in her aspect and her eyes;_

_thus mellowed to that tender light_

_which heaven to gaudy day denies._

_-_ George Gordon

_. . . . ._

_Something is burning_ — it’s the first thing he notes when he opens the door to his apartment after work, limbs tired and stomach growling after a late day at the office. His worried eyes immediately search for Layla, finding her in one piece sitting on the couch with multiple colored pencils fisted in her hands and a coloring book in her lap, seemingly unbothered by the smell.

He sees no smoke, which is a good thing. “What’s burning, Layla? Where’s Veronica?”

“She’s cooking.” His daughter continues working on whatever it is she’s working on without looking up. “I tried to help her, but she’s hopeless,” she adds flatly.

Archie hides a smile as he drops his bag by the door and slips off his shoes. “No coloring on the couch, remember?”

She huffs, sliding slowly to the floor with an annoyed look on her face. “That’s a rule for a two year old. I’m six now.”

“Ronnie?” He ignores Layla’s complaint and heads towards the kitchen. The closer he gets, the stronger the smell.

A faint cloud of smoke is in the air as he turns the corner, having not quite made it out to the rest of the apartment. Veronica leans against the counter with her phone in her hand, looking up when Archie enters.

“Don’t judge me.” She half smirks, folding her arms across her chest. She’s still dressed from work, but has an apron on that only Fred uses when he’s here.

“Hello to you, too.” He takes a look around, eyeing the scorched pots in the sink, the numerous messy bowls on the counter, and vegetable peelings all over the floor. “How did you manage all this in—” He looks down at his watch. “—the thirty minutes you’ve been home?”

“Don't worry, I ordered take out.” She tilts her head, and he spies a bit of potato peel tangled in the tendrils.

He walks to where she’s standing, wrapping his arms around her and leaning down for a sweet kiss he’d like to sink into later. He doesn’t mention the peel in her hair because he wants to see how long it’ll stay there.

“But why the sudden urge to cook?”

She sighs, linking her hands behind his neck. “Layla mentioned something the other day about kids at school bringing in homemade treats from home that their mothers had made and I thought I detected a little envy in her voice. I started googling and ended up planning a whole dinner and well...here we are.”

He captures her lips again trying to hide the grin on his face, but she notices it anyway, reciprocating with one of her own. “What?”

“Nothing. You’re perfect.”

She scoffs, but still smiles as she pulls away and takes off the apron. “A gross exaggeration. But I’ll take the free compliment anyway.”

He can’t help reaching out for her again, wrapping his arms around her as he comes up behind her and links their fingers. “I’m serious. I wouldn’t change a thing. Your lack of culinary skills are endearing.”

She rests her head back against his chest, and he sends a silent thank you again up to whatever higher power is looking down on them.

“Did you give up yet?” Layla appears in the doorway. “Can we order pizza?”

“Layla, be nice!” Archie scolds, shooting a disapproving look her way before he begins to move some bowls to the sink.

“Leave it.” Veronica stops him with a hand on his wrist. “I’ll take care of it. And Layla was the perfect sous chef. I told her to save herself and leave me here.”

Layla peeps over the top of a large pot on the stove, grimacing. “How did you make it so green?”

“Talent, little one.” Veronica steers her by the shoulder back out of the kitchen, motioning for Archie to leave as well. “You two go wait for the pizza. Let the failure deal with the consequences alone.”

“I can help, Ronnie.” Archie stops in the doorway, loosening his tie. “This is a lot to clean up.”

“Let me wallow in it alone, Archiekins.” She winks as she turns on the faucet. “It’ll dissuade me from trying again any time soon.”

He retreats to the couch, sitting down on the cushions next to where Layla has returned to her spot on the floor. She’s drawing something that looks like a cross between a unicorn and fairy, but he won’t dare comment until she tells him what it's supposed to be. He’s learned that lesson already.

The pizza thankfully arrives quickly before his stomach starts to eat itself. He skipped lunch and paid for it all afternoon. He wouldn’t be doing that again any time soon.

Later after Layla has gone to bed and he’s loading the plates in the dishwasher, he looks up to find Veronica leaning against the doorway with something in her hand, having just changed into her pajamas. Her silky shorts give him an eyeful of smooth thigh, and he asks her to repeat what she said because he missed it the first time. “I said, how long were you going to let me walk around with this in my hair?”

“Just long enough.” He laughs. She moves to the sink behind him, and he hears the water turn on as he finishes with the dishwasher.

Suddenly, a jet of cold water hits the back of his head, dripping down his collar to his back. He ducks and turns as water assault pauses. Veronica has the sprayer in her hand, aimed and ready with a gleam in her eye.

“I’ll give you long enough.” She hits him again in the center of the chest. Instead of retreating, he comes at her, wrestling the sprayer out of her hand as they both slip on the wet floor, laughing in struggle and ending up in a tangle of limbs on the tile, trying not to wake Layla.

He carries her to bed before either of them loses too much of their clothing, remembering to grab the discarded pieces so little eyes don’t find them in the morning.

He’s happy to clean up the messes for however long they get to keep making them. He’s counting on forever.

_. . . . ._

for fran, based on her [fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18451673/chapters/43713200) xx


	5. it is not fantasy's hot fire

_. . . . ._

_it is not fantasy’s hot fire,_

_whose wishes, soon as granted, fly;_

_it liveth not in fierce desire,_

_with dead desire it doth not die._

_-_ Last Minstrel

_. . . . ._

Veronica zipped up the back of her sequin skirt before turning to admire herself in the mirror from all angles. She was pleased with the overall effect of the outfit — a tied white midriff-bearing blouse revealing a peak-a-boo black lace bustier. She decided to add a strappy silver heel to complete the look.

“And who, praytell, are you wearing _that_ for?” Cheryl asked over the pages of Vogue she was reading, perched at the head of Veronica’s bed.

“Mind your own business, Cheryl,” Veronica replied in a singsong intonation while gathering up her clutch. Her friend would find out in due time. “Let’s go. We’re already an hour late and I want to get my drink on before all the good booze is gone,” she lied.

Cheryl put the magazine down with a huff and slid her heels back on. “I don’t know why we’re even going. Reggie’s parties are so drab.”

 _She's not wrong, per say_ , Veronica thought as they got into the back of the car and André started the short ten minute drive to the Mantle residence. More often than not these parties lasted a quick two hours before every surface was covered in a layer of sticky and the cops showed up after too many football players started streaking through the neighborhood.

But tonight, Veronica had her eye on the prize, so she would put up with these juvenile antics.

The prize of course, was one, Archie Andrews.

It was no secret at all that Archie had a major crush on Veronica. For years. If he wasn’t caught daydreaming staring at the back of her head in class, he was fumbling over his words across the lunch table, face turning bright red. Or tripping over his feet during football practice as he watched her and the Vixens on the sidelines, his face eating asphalt a few too many times.

He’d once rear-ended Dilton in the parking lot because she had waved at him and mistook the gas for the break. Fortunately both cars involved were old clunkers with solid frames and the result wasn’t more than a scratch added to the dozens already present.

Oh yes, Archie had it _bad_.

Veronica was done with her usual type of boys — boys she’d entertain for a few days, maybe a few weeks if they were lucky. But Archie was not a love ‘em and leave ‘em type at all. He was a _promise ring, wear-my-letterman, share a milkshake and go stargazing_ gentleman kind of guy.

And Veronica was finally ready to put him out of his misery. She was ready to give him and _that_ kind of teenage heartache a chance. She was ready to hold someone’s hand in the hallway, and bring someone to dinner with her mom, and cheer for him every Friday night under the bright field light.

Another weekend of business trips meant another party at Reggie’s, parent-free. Veronica had a sneaking suspicion that Reggie threw these parties because he was lonely, but that was a rock to overturn at another time.

It was time to finally make her move. And the party was the perfect excuse to do it.

They arrived fashionably late as always, the party in full swing. Music poured out of the open windows and strobe lights in the backyard flashed over the house when the car pulled up.

Veronica sent André away to stay in the vicinity, warning him this could be over at any point, just as soon as a neighbor decided they wanted to go to bed.

“Is this what our life has become?” Cheryl bemoaned as they walked through the front door, immediately eyeing half a dozen couples playing tonsil hockey on the makeshift dance floor. “A series of antiquated mating rituals driven by typecast cretin testosterone and bottom shelf liquor?”

Ignoring her, Veronica’s eyes searched the room for a familiar mop of red hair. Coming up empty, she took Cheryl’s hand and led them through the crowd to the kitchen. If Archie wasn’t in there, they could at least get a drink.

Chuck manned the bar tonight as Reggie insisted, wanting always to keep up appearances that this was a _classy_ underage drinking situation and not what it actually was — a free-for-all.

In this case, at least Chuck had a heavy pour, and he winked at the two of them while handing over vodka sodas. “Looking good tonight, ladies.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes.

Veronica leaned over the bar to talk to him, not wanting to shout over the music. “Have you seen Archie?”

“Yeah, I think he’s in the backyard with the boys.”

She grinned, pleased. “Pour me a shot, Charles.”

Chuck did as she asked, watching in amusement as she knocked it back quickly. She patted his cheek in thanks before turning to Cheryl. “Can you handle yourself for a bit?”

“We’re in a house full of amebas, and I’m the one you’re worried about?” Cheryl motioned to the corner where a group of people had haphazardly stacked red solo cups in a pyramid. They watched as someone tried to create a beer waterfall, most of the liquid ending up on the floor. “Are you going to tell me why you suddenly have an interest in farmboy or leave me to assume you’ve contracted a brain-eating parasite?”

Veronica smiled, needlessly adjusting her top. Cheryl, God love her, while astute, was completely biased against anything with a penis. “I think it’s finally time to try strawberry. Especially now that this milkshake comes with a newly toned six pack and biceps bigger than my face.” She wiggled her eyebrows before starting to walk away.

“Um, hello?” Cheryl shouted after her. “Your strawberry has been here this whole time.”

Veronica looked back over her shoulder as Cheryl motioned to herself, shaking her head but grinning at her own joke.

Veronica easily spotted Archie by the keg with some teammates. He looked all sorts of handsome, wearing a gray long sleeved Henley and a well-fitted pair of jeans. It took no longer than ten seconds for his kind eyes to find her as she walked around the pool, trying not to get splashed by hooligans.

Her outfit had the intended effect, it seemed, as Archie’s mouth literally fell open as she approached.

“Hi, Archie.”

He seemed dumbfounded, looking around at his teammates who’d gone silent, as if Veronica had not meant to say hello to him.

Munroe feigned a cough and grunted something Veronica didn’t quite catch as he hit Archie on the shoulder before turning and taking the rest of the guys with him.

“Cat got your tongue?” She arched an eyebrow at Archie, the two of them now alone at the keg.

“Oh sorry, hi.” His cheeks burned red as he took a sip of his drink and then stared more intently at her face. “How are you?”

“Thoroughly enjoying another Saturday night cattle call of our peers before studying for that History test. You?” She stepped a little closer, pleased when he did the same. She could smell the warm musk of his laundry detergent and something so distinctly boy-next-door that had her nibbling on her lip.

“I’m fine...same.” He looked at her lip tugged between her teeth before he dropped his gaze to the ground. “I like your shoes.”

She stuck her foot out, admiring the shimmer of the heels. “Yes, they are quite something, aren’t they?”

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked, his gaze returning to her face.

She held her cup out, still full. “Just got one.”

“Oh. Right.”

They both looked down again, and Veronica wondered why she was suddenly nervous, standing in front of him now when she’d pumped herself up for this all week.

“So I saw you --” “Do you want to --”

They spoke over one another, both stopping short to let the other continue.

“What were you going to --” “Sorry, go ahead, I --”

They stopped again, grinning stupidly at one another. Veronica kept her mouth closed, tilting her head to study his face. Up close, he was really quite something to look at -- all boyish smile, handsome jawline, hair that made her fingers itch to dive into, and cute-as-a-button ears she wanted to pinch. Since he wasn’t talking now...

She tapped her nail to his chin. “How about a dance?”

He swallowed and she watched his throat bob with the motion before letting her eyes dance across his face. His smile grew wider, lifting all the way up to his eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

She took his hand, walking him back around the pool and ignoring the dozen people who were openly staring at them, his teammates included who thankfully were not making a scene.

Some techno trash played on the speaksystem in the living room where furniture had been pushed back to make room for the bodies pressed together. As she downed half of her cup, Veronica spied Cheryl getting cozy on a couch with some girl in a leather jacket.

They left the remains of their drinks, now sacrificed, on an end table before carving out some space for themselves in the center of the mass of people.

Archie didn’t seem like he had consumed much liquid courage, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Taking matters into her own hands, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stepped into his personal space..

His neck was warm, the hairs at his nape a little sweaty, and his scent multiplied tenfold as he put his hands on her waist. His fingers gripped her, more sure of themselves it seemed than he was as he continued to stare at her like he didn’t believe any of this was happening.

Archie let Veronica sway them back and forth to the beat, keeping in time to the hypnotic base pouring out of the subwoofer. The longer they danced, the closer they got, untill she was fully pressed against his front, and she had to tip her head back to look at him.

His eyes darted to her lips and she wondered if he was going to kiss her, here, now, in front of all these idiots. She’d let him if he did. He leaned down, sweaty forehead resting against the top of her head. But instead of closing the gap, he pulled back, stepping away from her.

Veronica dropped her arms in confusion.

Suddenly he grabbed her hand, leading her now through the crowded room and then up the staircase and down the hall. She followed in confusion, slipping into a room behind him that could only belong to Reggie Mantle, posters of bikini clad women covering the walls.

He shut the door and turned to her. She was shocked. Shocked sweet innocent Archie Andrews thought he could bring her up here, and what? _Screw her_ in Reggie’s room?

She was about to tell him that he wasn’t _at all_ what she thought he was. That she thought he was supposed to be better than this. A gentleman. _Boyfriend_ material. She felt her face scowling until he dropped her hand and opened his mouth.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to...I didn’t bring you up here to _disrespect_ you or anything like that…” His face turned all shades of red now, from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck disappearing into his shirt. “I just want to make sure you're not messing me. That this isn’t some big joke.”

The anger in her eyes dispersed immediately.

“You’re not, are you, Veronica? Messing with me?” His eyes went all doe like around the edges and it cracked her cold heart, a big deep fissure straight down the middle like a bolt of lightning down a tree trunk.

 _Jesus_.

“I’m not messing with you.” She shook her head slowly, moving forward with a few short steps until she could reach up into his hair, pinching those earlobes between her thumb and index fingers and reassuring him with her eyes that she wasn’t playing any games.

“Okay.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his hands gripped her waist again, pulling her closer. “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded, holding her ground so he had to come to her, had to close the gap himself.

His sweet lips pushed hesitantly against hers, more and more insistent by the passing second until she went all in, pressing against him and opening her mouth, guiding him to follow suit.

He tasted like beer and bubblegum, and something she’d later just refer to as _pure Archie,_ his tongue sliding deliciously against hers.

She mewled into his mouth when one of his arms wrapped fully around her waist and the other found purchase at the back of his head.

She’d kissed many people. Maybe too many. Boys. Girls. Whomever.

But nothing had ever felt like this before. All consuming. A fire lit up all over her body as he worshipped into her soul like this was the last kiss he’d ever have.

Who knew Archie Andrews had magic lips?

Their motions slowed until he pulled back, blinking down at her, his fingers playing with the ends of her hair. His chest heaved against hers as they caught their breath slowly, and he opened his mouth again.

“Want to grab a milkshake at Pop’s?” He asked.

She smiled, holding a laugh in her chest as she kept his gaze. “Right now?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, and she let hers out, too, the twin sounds dancing across the room.

“Okay.”

_. . . . ._

for izzie xx


	6. there are ways

_. . . . ._

_there are ways_

_to make of the moment_

_a topiary_

_so the pleasure’s in_

_walking through_

_-_ Rita Dove

_. . . . ._

When the polling numbers are finally released showing a landslide approval for the President, the room erupts in cheers despite the late hour. One in the morning has never looked so good in the west wing.

Veronica already has a glass of champagne in hand when Kevin picks her up, spinning her around while he squeals, seemingly enjoying the splashes from her glass on his face. “Oh my god. Oh my god. We’re amazing.” He bumps them into a filing cabinet before placing her down by the water cooler. 

The majority of the hugs she receives from the staff elevate her up off the floor, a consequence of her petite size, and she loses her heels. 

After she’s been passed around to nearly everyone, she finds herself in front of Jughead’s desk. She holds out her hand for her personal copy of the announced numbers, sparing him from a hug. 

“Good work, Lodge,” he barely looks up over his computer screen, but she catches the hint of a smile as he continues to type away, working on only-god-knows-what. 

“Thank you. And you, as well. I’m just gonna put these in my office for tomorrow.” She nearly dances her way across the room, barefoot, more champagne toasts slowing her down. Someone has found a strobe light, and the line between office and party begins to blur.

When she finally gets to her office, Betty is right behind her.

“I can’t believe we did it!” Betty swings her arms in the air before pulling her ponytail loose and shaking her hair free. “I mean I _can_ believe it. I wrote that speech. But oh my god, we did it!”

“Congratulations!” Veronica nearly skips to the cabinet in the corner to search for a bottle of scotch left from last year. “Go grab the shot glasses, B. Let’s make this a real party.”

She watches Betty dance out the office door and just catches the flash of red hair entering while she’s still at the cabinet doors. Continuing to look for the bottle, Veronica says, “Archiekins, Archiekins. Get on that couch. I’m gonna do you right now.”

“Okay.” 

Veronica turns around to watch the color peak into Archie’s cheeks as she smirks at him, noticing one her fallen stilettos in his hand. “Sorry, I was still talking to Betty.”

Inter-office relationships are frowned upon, but that doesn’t mean Veronica doesn’t tease him every chance she gets.

“Excellent work there, Wonder Boy.” She turns back to the cabinet, digging around in the back before finally finding the bottle. “You really pulled your weight this week.”

“Just doing my job, Ronnie.” He places her shoe on the corner of her desk before slipping his hands into his pockets, shoulders high in a sheepish manor when she steps closer to him with the bottle in her hand. 

“An impossible job.” She pushes her index finger against his hard chest, her eyes pausing a second too long on his mouth. 

“Anyway, congratulations to you. And if you're serious about that thing with Betty, I can just sit in the corner and not even say…”

“Get out.” Veronica laughs.

She tilts her head at him as he walks backwards out the door, eyeing one another with flirty smirks. He nearly bumps into Betty who’s back with the glasses.

He wiggles his eyebrows at Veronica before he disappears, and it takes her a moment to remember she’s supposed to be pouring shots. 

_. . . . ._

for mel xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two of the lines of dialogue are adapted from episode 3x11 of West Wing. high class comedic gold.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @tuesdayschildd  
> -A.K.
> 
> xx


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